


Proven Wrong

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday oneshot, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23310214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A little birthday Fred and Hermione for ravenslight <3I don’t know if it’s that or something deeper that compels me, but I’m off like a shot. “Wait!”She doesn’t stop, but then again, I didn’t expect her to. Not that easily.I try talking some more. “I want to help you, Hermione. I do.”“Why? So I can be another thing accomplished in your last year? Or so you can brag to George and Lee and all the other girls that you’ve tutored the Gryffindor swot herself? Not interested at all, Fred Weasley.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Comments: 46
Kudos: 164





	Proven Wrong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ravenslight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenslight/gifts).



> Happy birthday Ravenslight!! I just love you so much, friend. your luminous and beautiful heart shine to all who have the pleasure of crossing paths with you. You make me laugh, giggle, and smile. You help me be better, and I'm so very thankful for you!!! I cherish your friendship and I'm so thankful to know you, friend! Hope you enjoy this little bit of Fred and Hermione writing <3 
> 
> Alpha love to my dear friend niffizzle, and beta credit to Rdlentz8! Thank you so much, ladies!!! All remaining errors are my own. This is for fun. I own no part of Harry Potter, and no copyright infringement was intended.

* * *

“This is ridiculous,” she huffs—whinges more like it. But I don’t care. It’s adorable the way her nose crinkles and her doe eyes narrow when she’s all upset. And George says I’m barmy, but I swear all the freckles spattered across her nose multiply when she’s mad and her hair doubles. Magic sparks from the ends and  _ cor _ … It’s enough to drive a man wild. 

Because that’s what I am now. Seventeen is of age, and I’ve got a future all planned out. My own business and everything. And I don’t let Hermione fool me; I know that she knows I’m good with magic. That I’m brilliant at some things. It’s why she’s come to me for tutoring. 

And don’t think for a moment I’m letting her forget exactly what she’s doing. 

“No, no. It’s definitely not, Granger.” I let my mouth curl up into a wicked sort of smile. The one where I’ve the upper hand I  _ know _ it. “This is perfectly logical if you think about it. I’m a whiz with charms. Genius, really. The brains behind more than my fair share of the Weasley products, and you would only seek out the best to learn from.” 

“We’re leaving your jokes and things out of it, Fred Weasley. I still don’t approve of your testing methods, but I can’t deny the results. Can you help me or not?” 

“Depends,” I answer, full-on smirking now. I’ve no idea where I’m going with this, but that’s part of the fun, innit? And how often does a bloke have a wicked clever swot like Hermione come to him for assistance?  _ School _ assistance at that! 

Her eyes narrow as she frowns. “Depends on what?” 

“Not sure yet.” I lean forward, resting my arms on my knees. “How about we take it a few sessions and see how we end up? How well I’m doing and come to a mutually beneficial arrangement, yeah?” 

“No. It’s really very simple. We’ve had one study session together and I can see you know your magic enough that I’m asking if you can tutor me in charms a few times during the week. And what I’m seeing is that you’re turning this into some sort of game. Correct?”

“Very much so, Granger.” I let my voice morph into something silken, almost like a purr. It used to get smashing results from Angelina, and I’m curious to see the effect it’ll have on a fifth year… Science and experimentation and all that, of course.

“This is precisely why I didn’t want to come to you,” she snaps, pushing back from the table. She’s shoving things in her bag now and this isn’t at all what I expected. In fact, I’ve a bad feeling I’ve blown it. She’s going off still, not looking at me once. “I talked myself out of even trying for one study session with you for weeks, but finally gave in, thinking you’d be grown up enough to at least give it a go. And then when you agreed and it was actually helpful, I just blurted it out, but that’s on me. Exactly what I get for expecting more of you. For thinking there was more than all that hot air facade you wear all the time.” She looks up at me now. Right in my eyes. “Well, now I know better.” 

She’s gone just like that, leaving without another word, and I don’t try to stop her. I’m too stunned by what she’s said. And a great many other things I’m not sure I care to admit. 

In fact, for whatever reason, I’m up most of the night thinking long and hard about all she said. Lee pokes at me, teasing that the swot of Gryffindor herself got the better of me, but George tells him to naff off. George somehow gets I’m in one of my rare quiet moods coming back from the library and doesn’t try to force conversation or fun out of me. I’m lucky to have him… Mum doesn’t get why we do what we do. I’m pretty sure she thinks we just do it to mess with her, and I think we just let her believe that. 

George and I don’t talk about it too much, but it’s deeper than that. I know it is for him. And for me. It just never occurred to me that I’d want someone else to see all I do as more than all that… to see  _ me _ for more than flashy stunts. 

* * *

I find her the next morning on the way to breakfast and try again. It’s all I know to do. 

“Give me another chance, Hermione.” 

“No.” 

“Come on, now.  _ Please. _ ” 

“Why should I?” 

I spread my hands out, palms up, attempting a casual shrug. “Because I’m clever and you need me?” 

“We’re done here…” She’s off like that, whirling around, her curls whipping like a mad curtain around her head… Her skirt is flying up, but when she’s marching off in the other direction, I see how it sways… Has it always kissed right  _ there _ over her legs like that?? 

I don’t know if it’s that or something deeper that compels me, but I’m off like a shot. “Wait!” 

She doesn’t stop, but then again, I didn’t expect her to. Not  _ that _ easily. 

I try talking some more. “I want to help you, Hermione. I do.” 

“Why? So I can be another thing accomplished in your last year? Or so you can brag to George and Lee and all the other girls that you’ve tutored the Gryffindor swot herself? Not interested at all, Fred Weasley.” 

Her words are harsh, but I’ve heard Hermione in enough fights with ickle Ronnykins to know when she’s hurt and hiding it. And that’s the voice she’s using with me right now. And I don’t like it. Not one bit. 

“Wait a minute, you!” But she’s not listening, still marching off in righteous indignation, actually, and dammit if she doesn’t have reason for it. And how have I not caught up to her yet?! “Hermione! Hermione!” When I catch up, it’s instinct to want to wind my fingers around her arm, right there near her elbow. Because that’s what a bloke does when he’s trying to be sincere.  _ Or romantic _ , that voice in my head offers, and it startles me. Because it’s not something I’ve considered before, and I have a feeling Hermione wouldn’t take much to that. Little touches and the like from me. 

So I hold back and I look her in the eye.  _ Right in the eye… _

And learn they’re not just brown. They’re like chocolate, the smooth, rich and fancy sort I treat myself to every so often. And there are flecks of green, gold, and a cinnamon colour swimming in them, and I didn’t know eyes could do that. 

“What?” she asks. More like hisses or spits, actually, and it’s just Hermione enough to snap me from whatever I’ve just discovered. 

She folds her arms around her chest, and she means it to be a sign that I haven’t got long to explain myself. I know because I’ve seen her get that way with Ron and Harry… and I don’t want to be just another bloke she mother hen’s over and natters at. I don’t know when or why I decided that, but it’s done and no going back now. And no time to dissect and study it either. 

“I’m sorry, yeah?” I’m still looking into her eyes. Still seeing the hard lines etched around them. Cor, I really must have done things over the years to have her walls up this high. “It’s second nature to have a comeback to anything now. Kinda have to in my home if you want any attention.” 

“You’re hardly a forgotten and nameless figure in your own home, Fred. And besides—” 

“It’s easy and I’m lazy sometimes, all right?” It’s a gamble cutting her off like that because then I run the risk of being like Ron, and I don’t want to be compared to that git of a brother, but the lines around her eyes soften just  _ so _ and I think I’ve done something right. “Actually, I’m lazy most of the time. It’s part of the reason I’m thinking of new charms or enchantments for all these things. It’s something quick and easy and doesn’t have to last forever. Just an instant burst of magic that gives a temporary fix for something.” 

I slip my hands in my pockets because that seems a safe thing to do. This is something I haven’t even told George and certainly would never admit to Mum. Because that’d be admitting she’s right. That I could do more and I know I could… But I really don’t want to. Nor do I care to. We’ve already got Bill, Charlie, and Percy. They’re all overachievers and can never really please Mum—well, Percy’s his own thing right now. I think Mum’s honestly more proud of him and his job than she lets on because of the fact he’s being a twat and wanker. But she’s secretly wished we’d all follow in Dad’s footsteps and work at the Ministry…

Hermione loosens a breath. It’s a quick puff, but her arms fall to her sides and I know that’s a good sign. “Well, everyone else may let you get away with it, but  _ I _ won’t accept anything less than the best for tutoring, do you understand? I expect to get full marks with my ‘O’ come the end of this year, and if you’re going to help me, you’re going to do it properly. All right?” 

She shoves her hand out and I shake it without question. Without blinking really. Her hand is soft and smaller than I imagined it’d be. A delicate thing considering all the magic it’s capable of performing… and add these to the list of things I’m not thinking about right now. Or ever. 

“You got it, Granger.” 

* * *

I’m buggered. 

Completely and utterly.

And I was an absolute nutter if I believed for one second I’d make that mental list of things that surprise me about Hermione Granger and the way I’ve been acting around her and never come back to it. 

George once teased me that I’d had a thing for Ron’s little friend, but I’d shoved him off then. It was two years ago and she was working herself to the bone. I’d no idea how she was taking so many classes, but it was easy to see she wasn’t going to make second term without someone showing her a bit of kindness. Ron and Harry certainly weren’t. She was falling apart, bursting into tears all the time, eyes always drawn and tired, and ready to pounce on anyone and anything saying something stupid… Of course I took pity on her. Just little things. A conjured blanket over her shoulders when she would fall asleep in the Common Room over a pile of tomes...Even a cuppa tea from the kitchens when most everyone else had already gone to bed and she was still going hard at it… 

Oh, and then there was when she blew us all away showing up with Krum at the Yule Ball. That was a trip. She deserved every second, third, and fourth glance everyone in the room gave her that night. And it made me happy to know she wasn’t sitting off alone somewhere waiting on my idiot brother to get that broom up his arse removed… And then there was that whole month before school started this term that she spent with us at Grimmauld Place, and… can’t say I haven’t thought about how pleasant conversation with her can be. How brilliant she really is. 

Insightful, helpful, forthcoming, interested, and interesting. And now that we’ve been having three tutoring sessions a week for the last two—no,  _ three  _ weeks—I’ve come to see all these little things about her I hadn’t really taken the time to before. And I can’t stop wanting to push my luck and try flirting with her. A wink here and there when she’s gotten something right after practicing for a while. A nudge from my shoulder to hers. My knee and thigh pressing against hers when I slip into the free seat next to hers at the occasional meal… 

Shite.

Yeah. I’m buggered all right.

* * *

“Your form is all wrong.” 

“ _ No _ . It isn’t.”

“It’s too tight and tense. That’s why the spell isn’t lasting the full duration.” 

“No. If I don’t have a firm grasp of it, the spell is too weak and doesn’t take hold in the first place.” 

I swallow back a sigh. It’s somewhere between annoying and endearing that she argues so much. Almost endearing because I’m no stranger to standing my ground and arguing my point. It’s the way of the Weasley to fight it out with words until victory is achieved. It’s annoying because it’s almost  _ all the bloody time _ . And because when we’re in the thick of it, I’m sometimes reminded of when Mum and Dad go at it. Because there’s no bite to it when they verbally spar, just like there isn’t when  _ we’re  _ at it… 

At least I don’t think there is. 

And it’s a little dangerous thinking of comparisons like that with Hermione Granger. 

But all that aside for now, because I think this is a time when she might  _ really  _ be mad. Maybe. Her eyes are all narrow and her hair’s doing that poofy thing where it’s all crackling with its own magic and I think I should be braced for something… 

It’s all gone in a moment, everything vanishing from her face and posture in an instant, a drop of a moment, and my eyes widen in surprise. 

“You’re right,” she says, and I feel I could be knocked off my feet at that admittance. It’s like I’ve watched a balloon deflate instantly, and I’m shaken that it’s Hermione to be the one to give in. I’m pushed to feel this tight clenching in my chest at the way her face twists into a crooked smile as she says, “I know you’re right because I tried it your way the last two nights in my room.” 

“So… then…???” I’m genuinely confused now. And not really sure what to say next. I run my fingers through my hair, scratching my head. “Why have we spent the last quarter of an hour doing it all wrong like last session? When you know there’s a better way?” 

“Because I’m angry,” she answers simply. Her knuckles have gone white from her grip around her wand. “I’m angry that we have to pretend all is well and normal in the school year and that we have to just  _ be _ students. I’m angry I’m too slow getting some things right in the DA, and knowing what that could mean in a moment of battle. I’m angry the Ministry isn’t taking anything seriously and that it’s all on Harry.  _ Again _ .” 

Her voice has become increasingly louder with every word, and her arms have begun to flail about. She’s jabbing the wand at empty air now, and I lift my arm to her. Wand aimed down as I ask, “Well, then—shall we, Hermione?” 

I plant my feet in a defensive stance.

She loosens a hard breath, something like a scoff. “This is a  _ charms _ tutoring session. Not D.A.D.A.” 

I see the fire spark to life in her eyes, though. I see the way they’re dancing back at me. It makes me smile, from the inside out. “You’ve already mastered the charm; just admitted it to me you’ve done it correctly on your own between sessions. I think we can count that as a success and call it a day before moving onto something more advanced.” 

“Don’t be thick, Fred.” She snorts but moves her body into a duelling stance as well. “This is hardly advanced. I’m simply taking every precaution to maintain a certain level of perfection.” 

“Ah, the old practice makes perfect, love.” I throw a wink at her before I realise what I’m doing. What I’ve said. Everything in me stops and I want to take it back. To undo and redo the last several seconds because I’ve done it now. Given some part of myself away and now she’ll  _ know _ … 

“Well, you know me,” she says, a smile brighter than the sun splitting her face. “Standards, pride, and perspective. And all that…” 

I’ve honestly lost what we’re talking about, what we were even doing in this empty, locked, and silenced classroom now. Which is fine because Hermione throws a spell at me before I’ve thought to cast a shield charm. Her smile is impossibly bigger when I react to the stinging hex and it’s  _ on _ . We spar and duel until sweat beads my brow and I’ve loosened my tie and rolled my sleeves up to my elbows. Hermione’s tossed her jumper aside at some point and transfigured her own tie into something to hold her hair back. 

I don’t even know when or who decided to call it a night. 

All I’m aware of is Hermione’s eyes twinkling as she’s standing in my space when we’ve collectively decided it’s time to get back to the Common Room or risk being caught by the Umbint… I’m entranced by the way her smile has softened and taken on a new look. A happier form that somehow manages to melt and freeze everything inside me. 

“Look,” she murmurs, holding out her wand hand with an exaggerated posture. She casts the charm, holding it for the extended duration required for her exam and I’m overwhelmed with the need to praise her. To show her in some tangible way just how brilliant she is… 

“Well done, love,” is what I end up saying, bumping my arm against hers. And I sort of want to kick myself for something that stupid and casual, but she doesn’t move away from my touch. Doesn’t step back or off to the side. Doesn’t even huff or snort that ‘she knows’. 

Her cheeks have gone a darker shade of pink now, and it seems very much that she’s blushing… But maybe I’m misinterpreting things… 

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Fred.” She floats her free hand up and squeezes my forearm before she steps ahead, cancelling the charms and leaving the room. 

I’m left to figure out exactly  _ when _ and  _ how  _ I can create a duplicate reaction, which means I have to sprint halfway down the corridor to catch up to her… And I don’t come up with anything in the time my feet don’t work… 

But that’s all right. More exams to prep for this term, so I think I’ve got time. 

* * *

I’m running out of time. 

Between the Umbint, the DA, making and testing products, my own course work, Quidditch and then getting banned from Quidditch  _ for life _ — **_life_ ** **,** as if she has that kind of authority—it’s all been a mess of things and we’ve had to decrease our sessions to once a week. Which lowers my chances of having Hermione alone for a snog. 

Hell, not even a snog. I’ll settle for a kiss to see if I’m catching the signs and reading them right. 

I  _ think _ I am… 

But she’s been all formalities and professional this last session before her examination in Charms tomorrow, and maybe I’m a clod who doesn’t know as much as I think I do.    
  
“Good. Very good, Hermione.” I softly applaud as I praise her spellwork, reeling in my mind from thinking of  _ other _ scenarios in which I could be telling her ‘ _ very good _ ’. Because that’s not bloody helpful. At.  _ All _ . I clear my throat to chase away lingering thoughts and images. “I think you’re more than ready for the exam tomorrow, yeah?”

“I believe I am.” Her hand drifts to her side and the corners of her mouth bend in a smile. She takes two steps in my direction, effectively lessening the gap between us. “We haven’t had as much time for this lately, and the term’s been all higgedly piggledly…” She shakes her head, curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Actually, it’s all been a disaster. One I don’t see ending with the conclusion of the term.” 

“Yeah.” I slide my hands in my pockets because I’m suddenly not sure what else to do with them. I get nervous like when she seems to want to just talk. When I’m not acting like I’ve got all my shite figured out, and she’s being open and kind like this. Not all scolding for something I’ve done or plan on doing. “At least you can say you’ll have full marks in Defense and Charms this term. Like every other class, I’m sure.”

Lame, I know. But she gives a soft laugh anyways, and my eyes are drawn to her face. Her pert nose, the dotting of freckles, the warmth of her chocolate-brown eyes… The pink of her lips. 

And I like to think I’m a bloke who’s decently prepared for things. For surprises and can react well when things catch me off guard. I’m quite smooth and quick on my feet… But that’s all out the window apparently when it comes to Hermione. 

Because I’ve been kissed before. I’ve gone well beyond my fair share of a proper snog, but that doesn't prepare me for a pair of lips suddenly pressing against mine, and then gone before I can move. Doesn’t make me ready for the sight of a pair of pink-tinged cheeks filling my vision when Hermione pulls away. 

“Thank you, Fred,” she says. “You’ve proven my original thoughts on your tutoring abilities wrong.” 

My mind catches up now, and I dip down to her, the fringe of my red hair brushing against her brown curls. “Thought you didn’t like to be wrong, love. Thought you were one that always needed to be  _ right _ .” 

“Not always.” She’s tilting her face up to mine and her breath tickles my chin. “It’s not always a bad thing to be wrong.” 

“Hmm. What are you trying to be right on at the moment?” 

“That you’d be a good kisser,” she hums, the chasm between our mouths growing smaller and smaller every second. “And that it’d be a good idea to have practiced this before you get us caught under charmed mistletoe over Christmas hols.” 

“You think I’d do that?”  _ Why am I still talking and not kissing?! _

Her fingers curl around my sleeves and the last thing I see is her smile before all else is forgotten in the haze and magic of kissing Hermione. Of being snogged breathless… 

Of knowing I have no idea what’s going to happen the rest of the year, but I think I can handle all of it. Any of the disasters that come, as long as she’s here and we keep proving each other right and wrong at all the right times.


End file.
